


Brothers

by ami_ven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6532186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You thought I was going to hit you, didn’t you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> originally written in 2013

It had taken Harry over a week not to be surprised at waking up in the Burrow. They had been on the run for so long, then catching odd bits of sleep while Hogwarts was evacuated and repairs started, that it had been incredibly strange to find a bed still set up for him in Ron’s old room.

No one had even questioned that Harry would be staying with the Weasleys, and none of the Weasleys seemed to question it, either. Hermione was back with her parents, after they had been retrieved from Australia, helping them recover from their Memory Charm, so Harry was the only outsider at the Burrow. He tried to keep out of everyone’s way, not wanting to be a burden, but also somehow unable to leave.

Until one morning, a week and a half after he’d arrived, when he’d gotten up to help Mrs. Weasley with the breakfast dishes and George caught his arm.

“Harry,” he said quietly— George said everything quietly, now, and Harry’s heart sank every time he heard it— “Can I have a word?”

“Of course,” Harry agreed, following George out of the kitchen and into the garden.

Harry supposed he should have been nervous as they rounded the Weasleys’ makeshift Quidditch pitch, but mostly he was just relieved. He’d caused so much trouble and heartache for this family, just by making friends with their youngest son, that they must hold some of it against him. And George had more reason than any of them to be angry— Harry hadn’t realized how often he had thought of the twins as a single entity until there was only George.

The older boy stopped, just beyond the line of large apple trees. George seemed upset, the quiet kind of upset, and Harry could guess what was coming. He tensed, closing his eyes. But after a long moment in which nothing happened, he opened them again.

George was just standing there, smiling slightly. “You know, I think Hermione might be right. You _are_ an idiot.”

“I— What?” said Harry.

“You thought I was going to hit you, didn’t you?” George asked, mildly. “That I brought you way out here so nobody would see?”

“I—” Harry started again, then sighed. “Yes.”

“That’s what I thought,” said George. “Idiot.”

Harry frowned. “Aren’t you mad at me, though? I dragged your family into a war, George. You’ve all been hurt because of me. Ron… pretty much every year I’ve known him. Percy was petrified, your dad was attacked by Voldemort’s snake, Bill got attacked by a werewolf, you lost an ear, Fred got _killed_ —”

George paled and Harry thought he really would hit him, so he was more than a bit confused to find himself suddenly pulled into a tight hug.

“Don’t you dare try to take the blame for all this, Potter,” hissed George, furious. “That’s on Moldy-wart, and nobody else.”

He pulled back, looking more serious than he had since his twin’s funeral. “Losing Fred,” he said, softly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it, if I’ll ever be able to look in the mirror and not see him looking back at me. But I don’t blame you, Harry. Not even a little.”

“Why not?” Harry asked, genuinely confused.

“Because we thought you’d died,” said George. “And when you turned up alive, the first thing I thought, the very first thing, was _Thank Merlin I didn’t lose another one_.”

Harry frowned. “Another what?”

“A brother,” said George, so matter-of-factly that Harry just blinked at him. “Honestly, Harry. You’ve been one of us since we rescued you from the muggles in Dad’s flying car.”

“Oh.”

“Harry?” called Ron’s voice, suddenly. “George? Mum wants us to de-gnome the garden, and I’m _not_ doing it by myself!”

He came stomping around a tree to scowl at them both. “Well? Come on.”

Harry grinned. “I’d _love_ to help you de-gnome the garden, Ron,” he said.

Ron frowned, suspiciously, and turned to George. “Did you hex him, or something?”

George held up his hands, grinning. “I only told him the truth.”

THE END


End file.
